


There Will Come Soft Rain

by Cinaed



Category: CSI: Las Vegas
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-01
Updated: 2006-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-08 03:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long before Hodges ever stepped foot in Las Vegas, he worked in Seattle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Will Come Soft Rain

Before he came to Los Angeles, David had lived in Seattle. It was aptly nicknamed the Rainy City, with an almost constant downpour and once in a blue moon sunny days. After the first few weeks, David had grown accustomed to the squelching sounds his shoes made no matter how many different ways he tried to keep them dry, accustomed to the way his entire frame felt waterlogged, accustomed to the overcast skies and soft, sighing wind that whispered secret longings into his ear if he listened for too long. 

Even if he had bitched and moaned about what he’d been forced to get used to during those four years in the Emerald City, David had secretly liked it. The rain reminded him of childhood, when he splashed around in mud puddles and got drenched to the bone, coming into his house and shaking his head like a drenched dog and making his mother laugh, with a mixture of irritation and amusement in the sound, every time. He’d liked the sensation of almost saturation, because it made him feel heavy and more grounded somehow, and David was someone who hated feeling like he didn’t have both feet firmly planted on the earth. Most of all, he loved the soft, sighing wind that whispered secret longings to him because he could whisper a few of his own back. 

He still thought wistfully of Seattle, sometimes, and wished that he hadn’t had to move from Washington to California to escape his ex-wife, that she had been the one to pack up her belongings, climb into her car, and drive away from the cool, rain-drenched city and the soft, sighing wind with its secret longings. 

Los Angeles had been a hot, hungry city with pathetic mimicries of clouds which tempted but rarely deigned to sprinkle rain on the city’s denizens. The wind of Los Angeles had been harsh and sullen and kept its secrets to itself; David found he missed the company, for his secrets built up in his chest like pressure, and he knew that one day they would explode and he would have to pack his belongings in his car and drive away from this city as well. 

Needless to say, when he was ‘transferred,’ David wasn’t very surprised. He just wished the unleashing of a good portion of his secrets hadn’t left him with such a dull, empty ache in his chest. He remembered sighing at the first sight of Las Vegas -- its gaudy lights had hurt his eyes -- and thinking that this place would be even worse than Los Angeles. 

Much to his surprise, the wind of Las Vegas had been almost soft against his skin, shyly caressing him in greeting, and he had thought that though this city definitely wasn’t Seattle, he could make do here. There was warmth here, the constant heat of the city pressing down on his shoulders and halfway grounding him, and halfway-grounded was better than nothing. David found he walked these streets easier than the boulevards of Los Angeles, and while the wind was too shy to whisper its own secrets to him, it listened with grave solemnity when he whispered his own secrets aloud. 

It listened as he whispered of choices he was too cowardly to make, of words he wished he could take back, of moments that still pained him because of the lost possibilities. He whispered of silent longings, of unrequited love, of fragile dreams that he knew would never come true. The Las Vegas wind listened gravely and intently, and didn’t offer a single word of encouragement or discouragement; it just listened, caressing his lips as he breathed out the words and stealing the occasional tear that clung to his eyelashes as he spoke. 

It didn’t rain often in Las Vegas, as much a once in a blue moon occurrence as sunny days had been in Seattle, but when it did rain, it was sudden and intense, and left David breathless with pleasure as the rain fell passionately upon his upturned face like a long-lost lover’s touch. During those times, he ignored the odd looks he received, standing there with no umbrella, just keeping still, like the rain was some sort of absolution, washing away his sins. 

He still missed Seattle, with its soft, sighing wind that had shared its secrets and the storm clouds that had gleefully soaked the city’s denizens as much and as often as they could, missed it with a fierce ache in his chest when the days between one storm and another stretched out for too long and left him feeling bone-dry and parched and longing for even just the barest sprinkle of rain, but if he had not packed up his belongings and gotten into his car, he would never have ended up in this halfway-grounding city with its shy wind that listened intently to his secrets, and most importantly of all, he would never have met the one who would be all his longings and dreams in a single lanky form.

David would have never met Greg, who had seen him standing in the rain one day, drenched to the bone, and had laughed and joined him, throwing his umbrella carelessly aside, and that had been the beginning of it. Soon it was Greg who he whispered his secrets to, Greg whose touch was even softer than Seattle’s wind and whose eyes were warm and gentle and filled with life, Greg who understood the simple pleasure of the rain. Soon, he had very few things to say to the Las Vegas wind. He didn’t think it minded much; after all, in Sin City, there were always lost souls needing to confide in something, even to the puff of air caressing their cheek. 

Yes, David still thought wistfully of Seattle, but it was mere nostalgia now, because he knew he would not leave Las Vegas ever again, not when he had Greg and the halfway-grounding heat and the sudden, fierce rain and the shy, silent wind.   



End file.
